Blown Away
by missaliceice2014
Summary: The War against Voldemort may be over, but Hermione is far from living peacefully. When she comes back from the War, her father picks them up and moves them to rural America. Will anyone find her and bring her home?
1. Chapter 1

ONE

_June 28, 1998_

Hermione Jean Granger turned and looked back at the house she had grown up in as her father's car travelled down the street. She had been powerless when he told her they were moving and shocked when he had said they were moving to America. It was true, she was twenty, but her father didn't know that. He had not been told about her Time Turner use in her third year or how she used it in the War to make up for things she hadn't gotten a chance to do. As far as he knew, she was sixteen and not legal.

"Turn around!" Her father, Frank Granger, snapped, looking through the rearview mirror with cold brown eyes at her. "I don't need a ticket, too, because of you!"

"Yes, daddy." She said quietly, doing as she was told. Keeping him happy was her only goal. She couldn't afford to think three steps ahead anymore. He had her wand, her books, everything. She had given up trying to use wandless magic. Whenever something happened that wasn't strong enough to take him out, he would make her pay the price over and over and over again until she had no choice but to yield. The only thing he hadn't taken away was the necklace he had given her for her fourteenth birthday.

She folded her hands in her lap and kept her eyes fixed on them. No eye contact with him or he would think she was up to something. He couldn't do much between there and the airport, but he could think of something horrible for when they came to their new house in America. Oklahoma, she was told. What could possibly be in Oklahoma? When she had looked it up while he was at work one day, she found out nothing was in Oklahoma. Not where they were going. It was a stretch of nothingness. Just them and the silence.

_I wish you were here, Mum…_

Her mother had passed away during the War. And contrary to what Hermione had thought would happen, Death Eaters weren't the ones to take her life. It had been a mugging in London. She was coming home from picking up her wedding ring from the jeweler's where she was having it resized in April. Her father had been unstable at best while Hermione was gone and when she returned from Hogwarts, he became explosive and violent. This had become her new normal. No letters to or from friends, no practicing spells for the next year, no magic of any sort. The punishment wasn't worth it… From the moment she stepped in the door of the house, her time had been spent packing and catering to him, no matter what his needs were or how inappropriate they were. Frank had taken the one thing from her that she was supposed to give to someone she loved.

Her father pulled into the airport and hauled their bags through checking and security. She followed him silently, not looking at anyone and keeping her head down. She only lifted it enough to see where she was going.

They got on the plane and Hermione was shoved into the window seat. She looked out the window at England growing smaller and smaller beneath her. Soon, she heard her father snoring beside her and she allowed a few tears to slip from her eyes.

~ooOoo~

They landed in an unfamiliar place to Hermione. It was a city, but she didn't care about anything in it. There was a car waiting and her father sat in the driver's seat, which was on the opposite side than she was accustomed to. He even drove on the opposite side of the road.

Finally, the came to a stop in front of a house that was three times smaller than the one they had in England. She didn't even know the name of the town where they were, if it was a town at all. There were no houses or people for miles. She just looked out the window at it.

"Well? Are you just going to sit there? Take your shit in the house! I'm not your butler!" Frank said, slamming the driver's side door as he got out of the car.

She got out of the backseat and carried her suitcases inside. She had four of them so it took two trips to get them inside. In the house, she saw the separating wall between the two halves had been knocked down. The kitchen was one with the living room and the living room was one with the only bedroom. The only thing that had its own room was the bathroom. Clearly, her father had told someone how to prepare the house. There was no way she'd ever be left alone here. Even if her father did leave for a while, there was no where she could go.

"Unpack and start cooking. The fridge is already full and so is the pantry."

"Yes, daddy." She replied. She had been forbidden to say much else. Yes, daddy. No, daddy. May I please use the bathroom, daddy? She didn't do anything without his permission and she had given up asking to eat or sleep. The punishment for that, too, wasn't worth it.

She put her clothes in the small dresser and quickly began to cook. She knew what her father liked. Steak and potatoes. It was all he ever ate lately. Half an hour later, she put the food on the table and waited for him to be seated before sitting down herself. She didn't touch the food she had made. She always waited until he was finished and gave her permission to eat.

He cut into the steak with a fork and knife, grunting. "This'll do. Cook it longer next time."

"Yes, daddy."

He swiped the piece he had cut off in potatoes and put it in his mouth. He didn't bother swallowing before speaking. "I have to go into town tonight for an hour or so. You know what'll happen if you try getting away, don't you?" He looked at her with a glint in his eye that made her stomach turn.

"Yes, daddy."

He sneered a sour sneer that would've given Severus Snape a run for his money. "Tell daddy what'll happen. Tell me what I'll do to you."

Hermione's voice shook as she answered. "I'll be t-tied down and you'll… you'll p-punish me like the bad little girl I am…"

Frank pointed the knife at her. "That's right, baby. There is something to be said for your intelligence, after all." He cut another piece of steak and repeated the potato process. "So don't you get any funny ideas while I'm gone. We're in the middle of nowhere now and I'm the one with the car keys."

"Yes, daddy…"

Twenty minutes later, her father was done eating. She prayed he would give her permission to eat, but he didn't. He grabbed the car keys from his jacket and turned to her where she was standing in front of him.

"While I'm away, you are to clean this place up. It looks like it hasn't been touched since they knocked that wall down. I want it spotless and a beer waiting for me when I get back. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good. Better get started." He shut the door behind him.

Hermione listened to the car as it sped off and she sunk to the floor, her body quaking with silent sobs. She screamed and balled her hands into fists. She was on the floor a total of eleven minutes before she got herself together and stood, searching for the broom. When she found it, she immediately got to work sweeping the living/bed/dining room/kitchen. The dust was unbelievable! How did people live like this every day?

Something caused her stomach to flip and she ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before getting sick. She gasped for air and shakily stood at the sink. She turned on the water, rinsed her mouth, and splashed water on her face. Catching her breath, she returned to cleaning. She couldn't slack even if the dust in the air made her sick. Her body couldn't take much more of her father's punishments after the last one the night before.

In line with his time frame, Frank returned an hour later. Hermione had cleaned until no more dirt could be seen and she had a beer for him as he walked in the door. He had a brown paper bag, which he set on the bed. He took the can from her and popped it open, downing half of it in one go. When he finished it off and went for the counter where he had put his stronger liquors, Hermione knew it was going to be a bad night. A very bad night.

It didn't take long for him to be drunk. She closed her eyes as he played with her hair and ran his nose along her neck. She fought the urge to shiver.

_You can make it, Hermione. This won't be any worse than last time… You can make it…_ she thought to herself. She had to make it. She wanted to live. But, at the same time, death didn't sound so bad. It would be easy. A painless paradise after this hell on earth of a life.

It was when he began to kiss her that she shut off her thoughts and her senses. She didn't want to feel what he did to her. She made herself forget. But some things she couldn't forget even though she desperately wanted to.

Hours later, she woke on the bed, naked and partially covered with the sheet. She looked out the window and saw it was dark. She could hear her father's snores and knew he was asleep. She closed her eyes and silently cried. She knew how it would go in the morning. She would be forced out of bed; she would shower, put on her work clothes, and begin the day by cleaning whatever he had broken while he was drunk.

She opened her eyes and looked out the window again. The moon's light caught something metallic and she carefully sat up a little to see what it was. Her eyes widened and she laid back down, her heart beating furiously. The paper bag had been left open and a handgun was sitting inside it. She curled up on her side and prayed to her mother until she fell into an uneasy sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

_June 29, 1998_

Hermione woke to being mercilessly pulled out of bed by her arm. She was tossed onto the hard-wood floor and she cried out as her head hit the floor hard.

"Go shower and then clean up this mess. It'll start smelling something awful if it's left around all morning." Frank ordered, not waiting for her to recover. She suspected he didn't care anymore.

"Yes, daddy." She said softly as she got up. She didn't bother covering her nude body up. He would just smack her, bruising her cheek, and make her go another round with him before repeating this entire situation all over again. It was easier to just swallow her modesty. She went into the door-less bathroom and turned on the shower.

The hot water relaxed her tense muscles, even as she hurried to wash herself and her severely hair. It hadn't been washed in four days and there were knots so horrible they resembled a bird's nest. Even so, she was out and dressed in loose blue jeans and a red tank top in ten minutes.

After putting her still wet hair in a ponytail, she observed the mess she had been ordered to clean up in shock. Her father had cooked his own breakfast… and used what looked like every dish they had in the process! What had he been thinking? It was then that she smelled the scent of whiskey. Of course he had been drinking this morning… And what had he made for his breakfast? It looked more like he was concocting a poison than food.

Without wasting any time, she prepared the dish water in the sink, making sure it was hot enough to kill whatever he had created in the pots and pans, and started to wash. If he had made this much of a mess, how could she have slept through it?

She was halfway through when Frank stood behind her. She almost dropped the soapy plate in her hands when he placed his hands on her hips and leaned in to speak at her ear. She could smell the whiskey coming off of his breath and almost gagged.

"I'm leaving for a while. A man in town offered me a job and I intend to take it. I want dishes done and supper on the table when I get home. Understand?"

"Yes, daddy."

He brushed a stray lock of her hair back away from her neck. "You may have some of the potatoes from supper last night for lunch."

"Thank you, daddy."

"Be good while I'm gone. You don't want to be punished again, do you?" He asked, running his hand along her collarbone.

She closed her eyes, wishing this was all just a bad dream. If it was, what was it saying about her mental health? But, she did fight in and survive a war, after all. She wasn't expected to be perfectly normal. Right? "No, daddy."

"Good." He patted her bottom before grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

She heard the car door slam and him speed off. She kept her eyes closed and gripped the plate so hard she thought it would shatter in her hands. "This isn't me, this isn't me, this isn't my fault…" She whispered. It was the first she had spoken aloud without permission in ages. Even when she was alone she didn't speak for fear of being heard and punished.

She had been telling herself that none of this was her fault since the beginning of it, but she was losing faith in her mantra. In herself. What kind of Witch let herself be dominated by a muggle man? She knew she was weak. She wouldn't be in this position otherwise. She was bound to him. He was her father. She was all he had left.

Hermione finished the dishes and planned out supper before stopping and resting. She sat on the bed and looked out the window. Feeling nauseous, she leaned down and put her head between her knees. It helped a bit, but not much. She sighed. Why was dust affecting her now of all times? It never bothered her back in England.

Sitting up and looking at the clock she saw it was almost noon. That left her roughly five hours to make sure everything was perfect for when her father came home. She wished she could use magic to get it all done and have time to take a good nap.

_I was a war heroine… How did I end up like this? A slave in my own home…_

She stood and took the potatoes out of the fridge. It was so hot out, she got the feeling leaving the container outside for five minutes would have the same effect as a microwave, but she didn't want dust and dirt in them, so she scooped a small amount into a bowl and ate them cold. It was disgusting, but she was hungry. It was the first time she had eaten in three days. She had no right to complain.

After she finished eating, she washed her bowl and fork and put the remaining potatoes back in the fridge. She paced in front of the window, weighing her options as she did every time she was given time alone, which wasn't often. She tapped her forefinger against her lips.

Four hours left.

Realizing her chores would take quite a while, Hermione cleaned the windows twice, swept the floors again, made the bed with the few sheets and one blanket on it, wiped down the table, scrubbed the counters until they shone, and dusted the television.

One hour left.

She began to cook supper. She had found a note from her father in between the wall and his pillow while making the bed saying to make spaghetti. She guessed he put the note in such an odd spot to check if she was cleaning properly. She hoped she didn't miss a note somewhere and cook the wrong thing, but she couldn't stop now or there would be nothing ready. She knew cooking the wrong thing was better than cooking nothing at all.

She cooked all of supper in half an hour, leaving her time to wash the extra dishes she had used and to set the table, double checking its cleanliness before putting any dishes on it. She kept the food warm on low heat on the stove, stirring it every few minutes so it didn't burn. Cold food would not give her a peaceful sleep that night.

By the time Frank walked in the door at 5 o' clock sharp, Hermione had the spaghetti pot on the table along with a cold beer for him at his place setting. She really wasn't sure if he ever drank water anymore.

Frank smiled, but it did not reach his eyes and it was not warm or friendly. Just cold and pleased. "I see you found my note." He said, his eyes looking at the table and his mouth still smiling.

She folded her hands and bowed her head. "Yes, daddy."

He sat down and spooned some pasta and sauce onto his plate. He gestured for Hermione to sit down, which she did. He forked the food into his mouth and, once again ignoring the basic etiquette, spoke. "Delicious, baby. Go get yourself a plate and have some."

Hermione was extremely confused, but went and got another plate anyway. She sat back down and slowly put some food on it and twirled the pasta on her fork. She looked up at him once more for permission. He nodded encouragingly and she put the pasta in her mouth, chewing slower than she ever had, trying to taste the poison. But, there was none.

~ooOoo~

After supper had been put away and the dishes washed, Frank sat back on the bed. He pulled Hermione to him and held her in his arms. He reeked of alcohol, but it was the closest to peace as she thought she would get. She didn't know what was going on and she didn't know if she cared. He wasn't hitting her or violating her. Who was she to question that?

"You know I love you, right, baby?" He asked so softly she wasn't sure if he even said it. But he had and she had to answer.

"Yes, daddy." This was love? No. It couldn't be.

"And you know I'll protect you from anyone who tries to take you away from me, right?"

Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't allow them to be audible cries. "Yes, daddy."

"Do you love me, too?" His voice sounded far away. As if his mind was trapped in another world than theirs.

"Yes, daddy." She whispered. And she found it wasn't completely a lie. He was still the man who had been a loving father and a doting husband to her mother. He had just gotten lost after she died. Someone had to help him, but she didn't know how.

"I promise everything will work out just fine. We will be a family again. Just us three."

_Us… three? Was he remarrying? What woman would be mad enough to settle down with him?_

She heard his soft snore and then he rolled over, trapping her in his arms, suffocating her in the stench of booze. It made her dizzy and she fought the urge to get sick. Then, a horrendous thought came to her.

"No…" _Not this… Anything but this…_


End file.
